Your erotic stories

He sat in his favorite chair, on the back deck, enjoying the afternoon sun. He was feeling sorry for himself remembering old times with his ex-wife. Their union had not been the most exciting life experience. He, was however, looking forward to his ritual afternoon pleasure. He was on his fourth or maybe fifth beer when she finally made her appearance, his next-door neighbor who on any bright sunny afternoon made her ablutions to the sun god wearing nothing but a skimpy two-piece bathing suit. She was too young for him to guess her age, but he took a stab at it noting the maturity of her curves the width of her gorgeous hips and guessed between twenty-eight and thirty-five.

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Ramona got out of the shower and dried herself off, wrapping the towel securely around her curves... just yesterday she'd run into her father's friend Victor after her shower and she'd been so startled that she'd jumped and the towel had fallen to the floor. Although it now gave her a rush of excitement when she saw Victor - even though he was almost twenty-five years older than her 20 years and was very attractive - she didn't want to repeat the experiment. Especially because today her dad was home since it was the weekend.

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At my age, 56, sex with a young girl means someone who's 40 or maybe even 36. Anyone younger than that you start to feel as if you are committing some sort of crime and will be busted by the police and end up in prison as some guy's bitch. Maybe that's what keeps some of us "in line." I've been single for ten years now and have dated numerous women although that special one has been quite elusive.

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"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry." His voice was a soft rush as he apologized for letting the door of the shop close on her, banging her hand in it. He grabbed her hand in his and held it firmly. "I didn't realize you were behind me. I'm so oblivious." He rubbed her hand between his, as he would his own if he'd hurt it. She felt a little jolt of electricity race up her arm and looked up into his bright blue eyes. Another jolt raced down her body. She was sure they had never met before but he seemed strangely familiar.

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When she crossed over I-80, Nancy snuggled her lean frame into the soft leather that was wrapped around the driver's seat and kicked off her heels. The countryside and farms blurred beside her and she day-dreamed as the car continued its course, almost on autopilot, down I-57 towards Champaign, Illinois. She enjoyed these drives. They represented the only time during the week when she could shut down, block out the irritations of her life.

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Ryan rolled over and stretched. His cock hung limp against his thigh as Marisa lay pressed against him. He felt her fingers glide seductively over his chest, down his rib cage and across his abdomen. In his head he was silently begging for a break. He'd already come several times as had she, but she was still hungry for more. He hated to admit defeat, but he knew his cock was finished and admitting that to any woman was a hard thing for a man to do.

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So there was a few years ago in my marriage, that I lived in this duplex. It was in the back streets of a small old neighborhood that was slowly transforming into a Chinatown. Nowadays the transformation is more complete than it was then. Like I said we lived in a duplex. I was 38 then my wife was 32. A little more about us, I am a tall drink of water so they say. 6 feet 4 inches tall lean and hard muscled. My hair has patches of premature silver spread evenly throughout against my mostly black hair.

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My parents started teaching my brothers and me at a very young age the importance of helping others, though they stressed that helping wasn't necessarily limited to the less fortunate or the poor or the needy. Basically what they taught was that if someone was lacking an ability or resource that you possessed, the right thing to do was to offer it to them. We were also taught to do this out of the goodness of our hearts rather than for personal gain, but we learned that the people we were helping usually did not want to be considered charity cases, so they'd often overcompensate by paying us extremely well for our help.

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I spent most nights of my senior year in high school babysitting. It was my parent's fault, really. Apparently having a real job would affect my grades too much, so I was stuck earning my money by spending my nights in various houses, feeding Kraft Dinner and hot dogs to hyper-active kids while their parents took a night off.

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This move was a big step for me. After being married for thirty years I finally had my kids raised and was left without a life, neither; personal, professional nor sexual as we'd been living apart in the same house for two years. I finally made the decision to leave and make my own way again. Needless to say, much was my own fault as I tolerated the neglect and did so from personal fears and the loathing to be on my own with two kids, but none the less, as I approached my thirty year anniversary I kept asking myself, "Do you want another thirty years like this?" and the answer came back every time as "fuck no!".

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